The Tell-Tale Spy
by Mr. Salt
Summary: How am I mad? Listen! And I shall tell you my tale.


I'm not mad.

I'm not mad!

Could a madman have done so perfectly what I have done? Listen to my tale, it will prove my sanity.

CT-1313, he was a Lieutenant, in command of 40 men. I was one of those men. For the last month or so I had heightened senses, they developed quickly, and I learned more of the traitors that I once knew as brothers. CT-1313, known to his fellow conspirators as Graves, was on the outside a singularly ordinary clone. But I knew more, so much more! Graves was a spy, a traitor, a turncoat! He plotted, he schemed, he conspired! Every time we went to battle, one of us never returned. Only one.

I thought nothing of this at first, after all, losing only one brother in a battle was considerably less than the average losses a platoon took. But then I realized, oh how I realized! The reason Graves never took horrible losses was because he was working with the Seps! They thought I wouldn't notice - ha ha! - but I did. I saw through his lies and deceptions. Every new clone that joined us immediately was in awe of Graves, treating him as if he was some type of god. They flaunted their horrible lies right in front of my face! And I would stand for it no more!

I needed a plan, a way to take out these traitors. A plan so brilliant, so perfect, so ironic, that the leaders of the Separatists would never be able to show their faces in public again. They would be the laughing stock of the galaxy! Of course, there was no way for me to simply report these conspirators, no, I was sure the corruption spread far higher than my pathetic Lieutenant. I would need to be discreet, and the deed must never be tied to me until the end, unless I alert my enemies higher up.

The plan was perfect, foolproof even! Whole legions of us were going to Geonosis again, everyone was preparing for a vicious and bloody battle. I bribed the Weapon's Master to let me have a few more Droid Poppers. Devious little things, they would fire an EMP pulse that could take out anything electronic in a few meters radius. Though it was a well kept secret by the Jedi, those Poppers were known to completely deplete Clone rifles if the weapons were caught in the blast radius.

Days I waited, slowly, patiently, cunningly. Luck was with me, for our platoon was picked for night watch. My time had finally come! Every night, carefully, ever so carefully so as not to alert the evil man of my concealed weapon, I held the grenade in my hand, concealed yet ready. Every night, for a week. Our platoon patrolled the outside of the forward base. Every night, I held my secret weapon ready. Every night, I waited for the allies of Graves to attack us. Of course, the Seps couldn't show favoritism, someone in the base might notice how a clone was unharmed in the midst of the bugs. No, I was sure the bugs would attack us, all I had to do was wait.

And it happened, it finally happened! Myself and one of the last few in our platoon who hadn't sworn allegiance to Graves were together, patrolling several meters behind Graves and one of his cronies. We heard a shout, then rifle fire. I told the clone beside me to rush back to the base and get help, I would bravely go and assist our poor comrades, or so the man thought. He was a good clone, I would hate to have to kill him.

I rushed forward, slowing as I came upon the skirmish ahead of me. Graves held his rifle in one hand and his sidearm in the other, 'bravely' taking on bugs that would never dare to kill him. The clone who was with him was on the ground, bleeding after taking a hit from one of the bugs concussion weapons.

"Graves!" I shouted. "I've got your back, Cell ran to get help."

He only turned to me for a split section, I passed his inspection, for he then turned his back on me and faced the bugs once more, the fool! I primed the grenade already in my hand, and with a mighty heave, threw it right next to Graves' foot. I would have paid all the money in the world to see the expression covered by Graves' helmet when he realized I knew of his betrayal! Ha Ha!

The Popper crackled to life, disintegrating and taking the traitor's precious ammo along with it. Oh what fun it was to see the bugs cut Graves into tiny bits! From there it was a simple task, I shot the remaining bugs, and rushed forward to see my mortal enemy up close, to gloat over my wondrous victory!

I pocketed one of the Poppers off of the dead clone beside Graves, then waited patiently for the rescue squad to come see Graves fate. Calmly, ever so calmly, I explained to them all I had seen. How when the clone beside Graves fell, a poorly attached Popper rolled off his armor and primed itself, draining the ammo from Graves' rifle and conveniently erasing the footage off the helmet recorders. With my tale, and the doctored footage I had already prepared, the superiors were convinced. I had fooled them with my careful planning!

Back at base, I was given a field promotion to Lieutenant, taking the place of the turncoat himself! To even further cover my own tracks, I nobly took it upon myself to complete the burial rights of my fallen comrades. The process differed between the various corps, but a clone was either cremated or buried. The traditions of the company that my - ha ha! My! - platoon was attached to was cremation. The next day the ceremony began, and the entire platoon attended. The process was short, but the results were perfect, everyone believed that Graves died by the hands of the Separatists, even the spies within the platoon believed my wonderful lie!

It was the duty of the platoon commander to say a few words for any death within the platoon, and I acted my part wonderfully. But something was wrong. Somehow, Graves still breathed. I knew he did, for I could hear it from inside the box his remains were put in. I talked louder, trying to overpower the steady breath coming from the box. Could no one else hear it? No! They were mocking me! Appearing to hear nothing at all! I lost my composure, I foamed, I raved, I swore! Still the breaths were louder!

I fumbled with my sidearm, even if I had to do it personally, in front of all these witnesses. I would deal with Graves once and for all! I got a shot off, then another one. But I was overpowered from behind. Those traitors, those cronies of Graves, they restrained me! They stopped me from my mission! It was imperative that I tell the story before they could kill me! I talked as fast as I could, of corruption, of conspirators, of traitors and spies. But they didn't believe me! The Legion Commander simply walked away, he must be in on it too!

I would kill Graves, I would, I would! No power of heaven or hell will stop me!

-000-

_Clone Mental Hospital, Coruscant_

"I'm Dr. Mendel, who is this?"

"Dr. Mendel, this is CT-1459, he developed Psychosis, terminating with the killing of a superior officer which he justified by saying the officer was a spy."

"Interesting, place him in the Long Term Care ward, I look forward to studying his case.

* * *

**My tribute to Edgar Allen Poe, Star Wars style.**


End file.
